


The Most Pun-derful Time of the Year

by SoloArcana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Author is a Card-Carrying Member of Team Switch, Beers Burgers and Boys, Blowjobs, Castiel is Sometimes an Asshole, Christmas Puns, Christmas fic, Come Marking, Comfortably Bisexual Dean Winchester, Confident Castiel (Supernatural), Confident Dean Winchester, Copious Amounts of Crafting Supplies, Crafter Castiel, Crafter Dean, Dean Loves Christmas, Dean is a Brat, Dean is a Little Shit, Dean is a Pinterest Addict, Destiel LifeMark Bang 2020, Firefighter Dean, Hobby Lobby but GAY, Inspired by a Hobby Lobby Commercial, M/M, Ornament Exchange, Pansexual Castiel (Supernatural), Sass Master Castiel, Sassy Castiel (Supernatural), Teacher Castiel, They were neighbors, but he's Okay with that, casturbation, make it gay, puns, shower shenanigans, so is dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28247784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloArcana/pseuds/SoloArcana
Summary: Castiel makes ornaments for the new residents of his neighborhood as a welcome gift. When someone moves into the unit next door, of course he makes one for his new neighbor. He’s not expecting to start a pun battle with his unfairly handsome neighbor.Dean’s just moved into his new duplex when he finds a handmade ornament in his mailbox. Charmed by it, he makes one of his own and puts it in his neighbor’s mailbox. What follows is a Christmas ornament exchange like none other. What started as a friendly gesture quickly becomes something more.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 23
Kudos: 107
Collections: Destiel LifeMark Bang





	The Most Pun-derful Time of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> Yes hi hello there, and welcome to my offering for the inaugural Destiel Lifemark Bang! 2020 has been a flaming dumpster fire, and I certainly won't be sorry to see it go. But while we wait, why not read some cheesy, trope-y, romantical Destiel fics inspired by Hallmark/Lifetime/Netflix holiday movies? 
> 
> Well, this one is inspired by a Hobby Lobby commercial I saw while on break at work. Not only was it actually cute in its own right, I couldn't resist taking Hobby Lobby and making it gay. 
> 
> It's also my first foray into writing smut, ever. 
> 
> Much thanks to WaywardJenn for the beta service!

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Dean comes home from work and finds a handmade ornament in his mailbox. “Welcome to the neighborhood,” written in some fancy handwriting across a scroll curled underneath a building that looks just like his duplex. He grins, gently nestles it on top of his mail and duffel, and goes inside. 

  
  
  


xxXXXxxXXXxx

Cas opens his mailbox to find a small package nestled inside, wrapped in red tissue paper. It’s a cowboy hat, the words “Howdy, pardner” written on the brim. He huffs a laugh and glances around. Who would leave an ornament in his mailbox? Regardless, it makes him smile, and that’s more than enough for him. 

  
  


xxXXXxxXXXxx

A few days later, Dean’s puttering in the kitchen, unpacking a box marked “kitchen crap-etc.” when he hears footfalls on his shared front porch. Since he hasn’t met his new neighbor yet, he drops what he’s doing and darts down the hallway and up to the front door. Wiping hands on the pajama pants he’s still wearing, (it’s his day off, suck it, Sammy,) he opens the door and finds his neighbor checking his mail. 

He’s tall, almost Dean’s height, mussed hair, beige trench coat falling around his calves and a bulging messenger bag worn crossbody over what could possibly be broad shoulders. It’s hard to tell with the flasher coat obscuring his view. He starts at the sound of Dean’s storm door opening ( _gotta get some WD40 for that,)_ and Dean’s struck by the blue of his eyes. 

“Hi,” he says, holding his hand out. “I’m Dean. Just moved in a couple weeks ago.” 

Cas sticks his mail under his arm and takes Dean’s hand. He absolutely does _not_ feel a tingle from where their palms are clasped together. “Hello, Dean. I’m Castiel. How are you settling in?” 

“Cas-tee-el? That’s quite a mouthful.” 

Cas smirks. “Oh, you have _no_ idea.”

Dean just stands there for a second, goggling at Cas. _Did he just make a dick joke? It was, wasn’t it?_ Now Dean’s looking at Cas’ crotch, again obscured by the flasher coat. _Don’t perv on the new neighbor, Winchester. Don’t be a creep._ _But seriously, those eyes. That voice..._ he glances back up at Cas to find the smirk still curling his lips. _Full, pink...shut up brain! Oh, look at him. He knows exactly what he’s doing!_ An accomplished flirt himself, Dean lets loose with a full-body laugh. “You comin’ on to me, Cas? I’m not that kind of girl. You’ve got to at least buy me dinner, first.” 

To his credit, it only took Cas a moment to collect himself after Dean’s display. “Sorry, Dean. With a name like mine, one has to look for humor.” Cas grins, and Dean is about 100000% sure that he’s in trouble. Cas is attractive even all rumpled and straight-faced, but add the grin? That grin is dangerous. It promises things that Dean _really_ shouldn’t be thinking about his new neighbor. _At least, not yet. SHUT UP, BRAIN._

Heaven help him if Cas ever smiles at him. 

Suddenly aware that he’s been staring at Cas’ mouth for what is probably a creepy amount of time, and that his “loaf around the house” pajama pants leave _very_ little to the imagination. _And I’ve got a damn fine imagination, too. DAMN IT, BRAIN. NOT THE TIME._ He rubs the back of his neck and laughs nervously. 

“Uh, well Cas, I’m almost done unpacking, and I’m sure you’re about to be very busy with-” he gestures at the messenger bag that is clearly testing the bonds of its stitching riding at Cas’ hip “all of that. I’ll let you get to it.” He turns to go back inside, then snaps his fingers and turns back to Cas. “Thanks for the ornament, by the way. It’s a nice welcome-wagon gift.” He smiles at Cas as he waves, stepping back inside his side of the duplex. “Bye, Cas! See ya around!” 

xxXXXxxXXXxx

Feeling like he’s been tossed about by a particularly symmetrical tornado, Cas just smiles to himself as he takes his mail inside and deposits it on his hallway table. It’s always nice to have your creative endeavors appreciated. Since he’d moved in a few years ago, Cas had become the neighborhood’s unofficial Welcome Wagon. Instead of baked goods, ( _people have so many allergies!)_ he’d leave small, handcrafted ornaments that depict whatever home the new arrivals have settled down in. Most folks don't even know where they come from, and he's okay with that. Still, Dean's acknowledgement was leaving him with a warm glow of...satisfaction? 

_Ugh._ Why did he have to think of his frankly gorgeous neighbor in the same sentence as satisfaction? This was going to make his evening plans of grading essays difficult. _Dean really_ is _unfairly attractive, though,_ he thinks. Can he truly be blamed if he might have spent a _bit_ more of their conversation fixated on his mouth than his eyes? Which were, of course, just as breathtaking as the rest of him. He should feel like a creep. What he _does_ feel, however, is restless. Knowing that he needs to settle his mind, (and his libido,) before attempting to start his grading, he goes upstairs to change into his running clothes. 

xxXXXxxXXXxx

A couple days later, Dean finds another ornament in his mailbox. It's one of those miniature bottles that holds ridiculously tiny amounts of booze, all done up with a red bow. "Raise your holiday spirits" is written in script on a gift tag that’s shaped like a sleigh bell. Dean laughs and looks at Cas’ closed front door. 

“Oh, it is ON.”

  
  
  


xxXXXxxXXXxx

Cas opens his mailbox the next evening. Mixed in with the usual junk mail and various periodicals (that _still_ hadn’t gone digital) is a round of wood with a flaming chili pepper modge-podged onto it. He squints at it momentarily before memories of his college days kick in, and he doesn’t know whether to groan or laugh. In the end, the sound that escapes him is a mixture of both. 

_So, Dean thinks I’m hot. Nice to know._ It hadn’t escaped Cas how Dean had been fixated on his lips during most of their conversation. It looked like his friendly gesture was having some unexpected benefits. 

“Well,” he says, thinking out loud. “If he wants to play, we’ll play.”

Dumping his messenger bag on the kitchen table (what, it’s Friday, sue him), Cas goes into his second bedroom where his office/creative space is. From his scrap bin he pulls bits and pieces of felt, some fluff, and plugs in his glue gun. 

xxXXXxxXXXxx

Dean is _wiped._ Absolutely, no holds barred, ex-haus- _ted_. He wants a cold beer, a scalding hot shower, and about 14 hours’ worth of quality time with his memory foam, in that exact order. Cas’ porch light is on, so he must still be at work. Dean’s trying to figure out what kind of pun to put on his next ornament. He spent most of his (rare) down time at the station on Pinterest, searching for ideas, and he’s not ashamed to admit that he’s got quite an extensive crafting folder now, neatly organized by occasion. Once he’s had his siesta, he’s making a trip to the art supply store. His family is all getting Dean Winchester Originals for Christmas this year. 

His box is crammed with three-days’ worth of mail and squooshed in along with it is a Ziploc baggie with... _are those eyes?_ He dumps the mail back into the box and tears open the baggie. 

The eyes are not alone. There’s also a cheeky little smile on what he can now see is a felt taco. “Let’s taco ‘bout Christmas,” it says, and Dean laughs so hard he drops his duffel. When he can breathe without dissolving into giggles, he collects the rest of his mail and his dropped duffel and goes inside. He grabs a beer from the fridge before heading upstairs for that scalding hot shower, because Dean Winchester can multitask like a fucking _pro._ He’s just added another item to his to-do list before he sacks out, so he doesn’t forget his idea. He was also going to have to stop at the store tomorrow, because there’s no way he’s not asking Cas over for beer and burgers this weekend. 

  
  


xxXXXxxXXXxx

It's fucking COLD. That nasty mix of rain and snow that not only makes being outside miserable, it sticks to and soaks through however many layers one is wearing. Cas had every intention of settling down with a pot of tea and a few episodes of Forensic Files in the background while he works on his grading, but now he's adding a steaming hot shower to that itinerary. He notices Dean's porch light is off, so he must be home now. He's seen Dean leaving with his duffel, wearing a t-shirt with the fire department emblem on it, and he's assumed that he's either a firefighter or a paramedic. 

And if that uniform has featured prominently in some of his more prurient thoughts? Well, he's only _named_ for an angel. He never claimed to _be_ one. In the bathroom, he can hear the shower running next door. His hot, relaxing shower just became an entirely different kind of relaxing. 

xxXXXxxXXXxx

Dean's trip to the craft supply store was, if one were inclined to judge ( _shut it, Sammy_ ,) perhaps a little _too_ successful. Not only did he have stuff to make other stuff with, he also had stuff to organize and store that stuff in and with. And stuff to label that neatly organized stuff with. He had a lot of new stuff, and he couldn't wait to get started. 

He'd heard Cas come home last night, when he had turned on his own shower. That was one of the curses to living in these older buildings, the noisy plumbing. He'd been in the middle of a _very_ nice mental scenario starring his hot neighbor sprawled in a desk chair, pants open, shirt pushed up under his armpits, biting on his own tie as he stared down at Dean as he swallowed around Cas' cock. So if _maybe_ he was a little ( _a lot)_ louder than he usually was? Wouldn't be the first time he'd been described as a brat. Between that and his memory foam, he was feeling pretty pleased with himself. He sat down at his kitchen table with his coffee, queued up his Kick Ass Christmas Playlist, and got to work on his newest design.

He'd enjoyed that last wood disc ornament, so he was making another one. What he wasn't expecting, though, was exactly how fucking sticky his homemade modge-podge would get if he had to rework some things. As a result, the screen on his phone was cloudy where he checked his pins, he had bits of paper stuck in various places on his body, and his hands were covered in different-degrees-of-dry-or-drying sticky white goop. _Not even the fun kind_ , he thought as he once again wiped his hands on his jeans. 

Definitely worth it for the results, though. This time, he'd modge-podged two beer bottles, tilted towards each other in a toast. It had taken several ( _damned sticky fingers and torn pictures)_ attempts, but he had finally managed to get them angled and labeled ("Dean," and "Cas") the way he wanted them. Around the outer edge, he'd painted "It’s the most wonderful time for a beer." On the back was an invite to his place for said beer and burgers. "You, me, beer and burgers. My place at seven." Due to his not at all stalkerish attention paid to Cas' comings and goings, he knew that he usually got in around 6-615. He'd give him some time to unwind before he expected him to come over. Then, in a move that resulted in him questioning his life choices, he applied fine, shimmery glitter to the front of the ornament and left it to dry. 

Around 5:45, because he's also a paranoid bastard, Dean took a break from cooking and grabbed a chilled beer from the fridge. He stuck the new offering in a Ziploc baggie with a note "there's more where this came from," taped both note and baggie to the bottle, then went outside to carefully arrange the day's mail around both items. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xxXXXxxXXXxx

Cas had had one of those days where he was reminded of why he became an educator. Even though it was the last day before a four-day weekend, his kids had been engaged, focused, and most importantly to him, kind to each other. Teens aren’t always as self-absorbed and oblivious as people like to think they are, especially in these days of social media. He knew that some of his students had burdens that would flatten many adults he knew. He worked hard to keep his classroom a safe haven, and today was one of the days that he felt he had succeeded. 

He floated on that feeling the whole bus ride home, even through the short, snowy walk from the corner stop to his house. As he climbed his porch steps, his thoughts turned to his next crafting project. He’d heard Dean in the shower last night. How couldn’t he, when they’re sharing a wall? And since he’d never heard him in the weeks before, he was inclined to believe that Dean had been loud _on purpose_ . In which case, he had a _perfect_ idea. He opened his mailbox and saw Dean’s latest offering. _Today just keeps getting better,_ he thought with a smile. He’s got enough time to make his next ornament. 

xxXXXxxXXXxx

Seven o’clock has Cas at Dean’s door, his ornament in a festive gift bag. He’d had just enough time after finishing his project to take a quick shower, so his hair was going in all directions and he was sporting two days’ worth of five o’clock shadow. The nice thing about the current trends being what they were meant that his habitual stubble and bedhead was considered “stylish,” rather than “I hit snooze too many times this morning.” He knocks on Dean’s front door, a grin splitting his face. 

“Heya, Cas! Come on in,” Dean steps aside _just_ far enough to let Cas squeeze in, purposely rubbing against him. Cas inhales deeply. 

“Smells delicious in here,” he says, staring into Dean’s eyes. _Two can play at this game._

Dean licks his lips and cocks an eyebrow at him. “Me, or the burgers?” Cas brought his mouth right next to Dean’s ear. 

“Yes.” He smirked as Dean groaned. Cas stepped away, raising his own brow. “I believe I was promised beer and burgers?”

xxXXXxxXXXxx

An hour later found them on the sofa, facing each other as they talked. So far, they’d hit all of the major points of jobs (Dean’s a firefighter, Cas is a high school lit teacher.) Both have siblings, and while Dean’s foray into crafting is a recently discovered hobby, Cas has been creating since he was a kid. 

At some point, Dean gets up for another round, and when he returns, Cas has settled closer to his seat. He lifts his beer to his lips and grins around it at Cas. “Personal space, Cas?” Before he can blink, he’s got a lapful of Castiel. _Damn, he’s fucking stacked. That coat he wears is doing a great disservice to humanity, keeping all this covered up._ Cas takes a sip from his beer and drapes his arms over Dean’s shoulders. 

“Overrated, in my opinion.” He looks into Dean’s eyes. “In all seriousness though, is this okay? Tell me, and I’ll back off.” He makes as if to get off of Dean’s lap, but Dean latches onto his thighs. 

“No! I mean. Yes! Yes, this is totally okay, Cas.” And Dean sees that he was right about Cas’ smile. He’s sunk. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to keep that smile trained on him. 

“Mmm, good,” Cas says, ghosting his lips over Dean’s jaw. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to have you like this?” Dean groans as he continues down his neck, across his face. “The day you came out to introduce yourself. Those pants left _nothing_ -” he grinds down in Dean’s lap, “to the imagination. And I saw how you fixated on my mouth. I bet you thought about stretching my lips around your cock, didn’t you?” He seals his mouth to Dean’s, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting softly. 

Dean’s hands latch onto Cas’ hips, driving his own up against the body moving above him. Cas releases his lip to trail his mouth down his throat, pulling aside the neck of his t-shirt to lave his tongue across his clavicle. With a moan of his own, Cas fastens his mouth onto Dean’s neck and rolls his hips. 

“Shit, Cas. You’re killing me here. I gotta-let me-” Dean runs his arms up into Cas shirt, pushing it up as he goes. Cas releases his neck long enough to let Dean pull his shirt over his head, before leaning forward to claim his mouth again. He grips the hem of Dean’s t-shirt, releasing his mouth in favor of the expanse of exposed skin before him. 

“Fuck, Dean, you’re gorgeous. And one day, I’m going to take my time with you.”

“Please tell me that’s not today.” Dean’s pretty sure that he’s going to lose his mind if Cas decides they’re gonna take their time about this. 

_There goes the eyebrow again. Fuck that’s hot..._ Without missing a beat, Cas shifts his attention to Dean’s earlobe. In a voice that would probably make him a decent living as a phone sex operator, he growls in his ear. “Oh no, Dean. After your little stunt in the shower last night, I lack the patience to truly torment you tonight.” 

“Thank god,” Dean says, throwing his head back on the sofa. He’s hanging on by a thread. Who knew Cas was a freaking sex-fiend? Dean’s not complaining. He’s usually the take-charge type himself, but he’d be lying if he said being the sole focus of that deep blue gaze wasn’t hot as fuck. 

“No. Right now,” Cas straight up _slithered_ to his knees on the floor, slapping Dean’s thighs apart. “Now, I fully intend to see if you taste as good as you look.” Dean might have laughed at that, if Cas wasn’t running his hands up along his inseams, using teeth and tongue to unbutton his jeans. 

Dean can feel the heat of Cas’ breath through the denim and cotton still covering his cock. It’s so much, and such a tease at the same time. Looking down, Dean watches as Cas grasps the zipper pull between his teeth. When Cas locks eyes with him and sllllloooooooowwllly draws the pull down, Dean moans and fists his hands in his own hair. “Fuck, that’s hot, Cas.”

Cas’ hands are busy pulling Dean’s jeans and boxers down just far enough to free his cock. Still maintaining eye contact ( _seriously, he must have won every staring contest he ever got challenged to,)_ he licks a hot, wet stripe up the underside of Dean’s cock. When he reaches the head, the fucker _winks_ and swallows him to the root. 

“Shit! Fuck! Goddamn, Cas!” Dean plants his feet on the floor and bucks up into Cas’ mouth. Cas chokes briefly, then bars an arm across Dean’s hips, holding him in place. “Shit, sorry Cas, didn’t mean to-” Dean’s brain short-circuits when Cas’ free hand tweaks a nipple, causing him to try and thrust into Cas’ throat again. Because he can, and because sometimes, Cas is the first to admit, he can be an asshole, he starts humming. He knows he’s got Dean’s attention when his eyes fly open, locking on his again. 

“Cas, are you humming-” Cas sinks around his cock and swallows rapidly. “Oh god-Cas-” he winks at Dean again, and that’s it. Dean is Officially Done. His hands clench in Cas’ hair as he comes, mouth open on a silent moan, head thrown back, eyes closed in pleasure. No sooner does his cock stop kicking than he feels Cas climb back on top of him. 

“Next time, Dean, I’m going to ride you.” Cas’ voice is rougher than usual, hot in his ear. “I’m going to touch every inch of your body, taste your flesh on my tongue.” Dean forces his eyes open. Cas is straddling his lap, fisting his cock while he whispers filthy promises into his ear. “And when you’re writhing, begging for mercy-” his hand speeds up, the other one grabs a handful of Dean’s hair, jerking his head back. “Then, and only then, I’m going to climb on top of you and ride you until we both come screaming.” Dean takes hold of Cas’ ass, urging him on.

“Oh fuck yes, Cas. Gonna fuck you so good, baby. Can’t wait to be inside you, split you open on my cock, fill you up-”

Cas’ moan is long and loud as he stripes Dean’s stomach and chest with cum. Without a care for the mess, he collapses on top of Dean, chest heaving. 

“Caaaaaas…” Cas cracks one eye open to stare at Dean. 

“Yes, Dean?”

“Did you seriously hum _Star Spangled Man With A Plan_ on my dick?”

Cas snorts out a laugh. “What? It worked, didn’t it?”

“Oh yeah, but-” 

Cas sits up enough to give Dean The Eyebrow. “But?”

“Now I’m not gonna be able to watch Captain America without getting a boner!”

Cas, _that asshole_ , just cackles hysterically as he pries himself off of Dean’s lap. “You’re welcome for that.” 

xxXXXxxXXXxx

After a bit of cleanup, Dean is on the sofa while Cas gets them some water from the kitchen. He comes back with two glasses and the gift bag he’d brought. He hands it and a glass to Dean before taking his own seat. Excitedly, Dean tears into the bag. “Oh man, I can’t wait to see-”

A picture of one of those creepy-as-fuck Elf on A Shelf things being rather _firmly_ grasped about the neck, surrounded by the words 

“When I think about you, I touch my elf.”

“The plumbing is old, and the walls are thin. If you didn’t want your neighbors to know what you’re doing in the shower, you should make more of an effort to be less loud.” 

Dean just laughs, slapping his thigh. “Worked, didn’t it? I got you where I want you. Guess this just leaves one question, Cas.” 

Cas tilts his head. “What’s the question, Dean?”

He grins. “You wanna help me top my tree, Cas?” 

  
  


_FIN._

**Author's Note:**

> There we have it! Happy holidays, season's greetings, et cetera. 
> 
> A couple of things! 
> 
> Dean's Kick Ass Christmas Tape exists as a playlist from Kototyph! Sadly, years later, I still haven't figured out how to link to other works in Ao3. *attempts to link* [A Very Supernatural Christmas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2771198)
> 
> After I wrote Cas making tiny taco ornaments, I wanted to go see what people had actually made. These are almost exactly what I imagined when I came up with the taco ornaments. [Felt Taco Ornaments](https://www.etsy.com/listing/662246663/cute-felt-taco-christmas-ornament?ref=user_profile&frs=1)


End file.
